Wisdom is lame when viewed through the lense of an adventure lost.

We were all saddled up last night, ready to buzz out to Ellensburg in Scarlet (my 1946 Willys CJ2A) for untold adventure. The excitement built as we walked around the little Jeep, tightening the straps holding the rifle, sleeping bags, and tools. Then Greg spotted the flat tire.

No problem, we'll just air it up and grab the full size spare, you know, just in case it's flat again in the morning and we're 20 miles from the nearest air compressor. So, the search was on for that elusive spare. It was nowhere to be seen.

At this point, we're closing in on midnight with a 2 hour drive ahead of us and there's no guarantee that the tire will survive the trip, let alone hold air in the morning. With regret, we left Scarlet behind and returned home to catch some sleep and jump onto the project in the morning.

So, here I am, rested but restless on a couch on a Saturday morning watching Pawn Stars, drinking good coffee, searching for a spare tire and wishing I was in Eastern Washington wheeling like a champ. Sure, my present location is not altogether unpleasant, but it's a big let down compared to my prior plans.

And the voice of wisdom is what brought me here. Stupid wisdom.